


The Delivery

by saramck



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saramck/pseuds/saramck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Emma Swan answers her door, she expects to find her best friend in the midst of a wedding frenzy. Instead, she finds her infuriatingly loud and annoyingly attractive next-door neighbor Killian Jones. He's holding a giant box full of plastic penises.</p>
<p>Her plastic penises.</p>
<p>[Modern CS AU with fluff.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt: the postal worker delivered your package to my place accidentally and I was expecting something so I totally didn’t look before I opened it and… wow that is um… quite an interesting thing you bought and I’m here to return it.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Emma Swan is halfway through a roast beef sandwich, which she’d been dreaming of all day, when a loud knock startles her and sends au jour dribbling down her chin. If it’s Mary Margaret showing up unexpectedly with another list of “Maid of Honor” tasks for her to accomplish, she won’t be held accountable for her actions. She’s tired, she’s dirty, and she just wants to eat her damn sandwich and go to bed. 

Rather than finding her insistent best friend, she finds her infuriatingly loud and annoyingly attractive next-door neighbor. Emma attempts a polite smile. “Can I help you?”

Killian grins as he shoves a box into her arms. “Yeah. I accidentally opened this giant box of dicks you ordered.”

Emma feels her face grow hot as she attempts to shove the box behind her back. A few colorful plastic penises rain down from the box as if to mock her. They both stare at the shiny objects on the ground before them, transfixed by the way they clash horrifically with the hallway’s grey carpeting. Emma’s convinced – she’s never been more embarrassed in her entire life.

Killian gestures towards his apartment door and continues, “I also have the penis straws, necklaces, and shot glasses you ordered.”

Scratch that. Now _this_ is the most embarrassed she’s ever been.

“I mean I bought all of this stuff for a reason. I’m not obsessed with penises, I mean I like penis, but I don’t have a penis fetish or anything. This is for a wedding. I mean not a wedding, but a bachelorette party. I’m the Maid of Honor. I’m not weird.”

Killian smiles wider, his eyes crinkling. “That’s good to know my neighbor isn’t into weird shit with plastic love hammers.”

“Oh, yeah good,” Emma nods, her blush even more pronounced. “Wait a second – love hammers?”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot of names for my most prized possession.”

Emma’s still blushing but for a different reason now. “Look – as much as I would love to stand here in the middle of the night and discuss your assets, I’d really like to get the rest of that stuff so I can crawl into my bed and die of shame.”

Killian’s laugh rings out through the hallway as he leads Emma to his door. “Your death via mortification would be a tragedy, Swan. Plus, what would people say when they found mounds of plastic long johns’ littering your living room?”

Emma’s eyes practically roll into the back of her head as she grabs a box off of Killian’s kitchen table. “Are you in the porn industry or something? Where do you come up with all of these names?”

Killian presses closer to Emma as he follows her back to her apartment. “Wouldn’t you like to know, love?”

The blush creeping up on Emma’s chest is enough of an answer. Damn him and his stupid hair and beard and – holy shit was he wearing a necklace made of penises?

“Shall I model some of your wares for you?”

Emma grabs the penis shot glass out of his hand as she shoves him towards the door. “Not necessary. Thanks for not only opening my mail, which is illegal by the way, but also for thoroughly humiliating me. I hope we never speak again. Good night!”

Emma doesn’t release the breath she’s holding until Killian’s laughter fades and his door closes with a solid thump.

(That night she dreams of being chased by a giant penis wearing a wedding dress.)

* * *

The next morning she finds the penis necklace dangling on the outside of her apartment door with a note that says: _Don’t give me the shaft, Swan. Dinner tonight?_

Emma is still contemplating Killian’s dinner offer as she sits across from a frazzled Mary Margaret at their mandatory weekly lunch meeting. 

“David was such an ass this morning,” Mary Margaret vents as she angrily stabs at her salad. “How could he not understand how important the color for the table runner is? He looked at the swatches I gave him and told me he couldn’t see a difference! Can you believe he couldn’t tell that Eggshell, Off-White, and White Cream were different?”

Surprisingly, Emma could believe that. She’d seen the swatches – she couldn’t tell them apart either. “Maybe he’s colorblind?”

Mary Margaret stops assaulting her salad long enough to glance at Emma with wide eyes. “Do you think so? I mean, that would explain why he also couldn’t tell the difference between Leaf Green, Forest Green, and Sage Bush Green.”

Emma nods her head encouragingly. “Yes, that must be it. Maybe you should get him tested after the wedding.”

Mary Margaret resumes eating her lunch much more calmly, a smile growing on her face. “What would I do without you, Emma? This wedding is driving me a little crazy, I think.”

Emma tries her best not to laugh out loud. “It’ll all be over soon. Only three more weeks, right?”

Mary Margaret sighs happily. “Yes, only 20 more days until I’m Mrs. Nolan.”

“Speaking of weddings,” Ruby interrupts as she shoves Emma across the booth with a bony elbow, “are you ready for your bachelorette party Blanchard?”

Ruby Lucas was definitely the least subtle person Emma had ever met. Well, before Killian Jones that is. 

“You’re late, Ruby. Mary Margaret and I are almost finished.”

Ruby laughs as she picks an onion ring off of Emma’s plate. “I guess that means I’m right on time then.”

Mary Margaret ignores Ruby’s comment and changes the subject. “What are we doing for the bachelorette party? Nothing too outlandish, I hope.”

Ruby mumbles around the fried vegetable in her mouth. “Party bus. Champagne. Lap Dances. Penis. Penis everywhere.”

Mary Margaret blushes. “I certainly hope not. I thought we were just going to dinner?”

Ruby’s eyes slide towards Emma. “Why don’t you ask your MOH?”

Emma tries to smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands. It’s your last night of freedom – don’t you want to go crazy one last time like we used to do back in college?”

Mary Margaret shrugs as she agrees, “That might be fun.”

“It will be fun. Trust us.”

* * *

When Emma returns to her apartment that night, she finds a box of penis mints sitting on her doorstep. Scrawled on the box is a note: _For later_.

He was really getting out of hand. She’d barely knocked once before Killian was swinging the door open, a smug grin on his face. “Evening, Swan.”

“Why do you keep leaving penises at my door?”

“Disappointed, Swan? Were you hoping for, dare I say, someone else’s member?”

Emma punches him on the arm. “Would you get over yourself already? You sound like perverted Urban Dictionary entry.”

Killian’s smile grows impossibly wider. “Oh, I’ve got something that’ll leave you speech-“

Emma interrupts Killian with another punch to the arm. “Stop it. And no, I will not have dinner with you. Stop giving me tiny dicks.”

Killian inches closer to Emma, his breath fanning out across her cheek. “Trust me Swan, there are no tiny dicks in this apartment.”

Emma makes a sound not unlike that of an angry cat as she stomps back to her apartment and slams the door.

Killian’s muffled shout of “You’ll never know if you don’t try it, Swan!” makes Emma equally parts agitated and turned on.

(That night, and for the next six nights too, Emma dreams of dancing penises and Killian Jones.) 

* * *

Despite Emma’s continued warnings via angry notes taped to Killian’s door, various penis themed novelty items continued to find their way to Emma. A game of Pin the Dick to the Hot Guy, Cock-Lollipops, a penis shaped baking pan, a hot pink hat with protruding penises on it, and (her personal favorite) a giant inflatable named “Peter’s Pecker.”

Each new treasure always comes with a note asking Emma to dinner, and each new version becomes dirtier than the one before it. Emma draws the line at Killian’s most recent request: 

_Peter and I have one thing in common, and it’s definitely not our names.’_

Killian opens his door with a laugh. “Swan. I thought I heard you stomping around out there.”

Emma is not amused. “You’ve been ignoring my requests to stop putting dicks on my doorstep. Do I have to file a restraining order against you?”

“Well, that depends. What kind of restraining do you prefer?”

Emma reaches up and pinches Killian’s earlobe between her fingers, pulling his face closer to her’s. “Listen here, buddy. Stop. Giving. Me. Penises!”

With one last tug, Emma releases Killian’s ear with a pleasant smile. “Thank you for your attention to this matter. Night.”

Emma doesn’t see Killian’s smile or hear the words he mutters underneath his breath as she flees to her apartment. “I think I’m in love.”

* * *

Emma Swan is a lot of things – loyal, shy, quick on her feet – but she most definitely is NOT a tequila drinker.

The night started out innocently enough with dinner and drinks at Mary Margaret’s favorite restaurant. Surrounded by her closest friends, Mary Margaret basked in her totally normal and not at all inappropriate bachelorette party.

That was before the penises came out, of course.

Now, three hours later, Emma finds herself wearing necklaces, bracelets, and flashing rings in numerous phallic shapes as she does her fifth (or was it sixth?) shot of tequila.

Mary Margaret’s shout of approval as Emma slams her empty shot glass on the bar is an indicator that the night has certainly gotten out of hand. Not only is Mary Margaret raging drunk, but she refuses to drink out of anything that isn’t her penis shot glass. As she so delicately put it earlier in the night, it wasn’t the first time she’d tasted what she called “dick liquid.”

Reason #3 why Emma Swan doesn’t drink tequila: it makes her have to pee _constantly_.

She shouts to Ruby over the music “I have to piss!” and then advances into the crowd swarming the bar. She’s nearly to her destination when a hand reaches out and grabs her arm.

Hot breath against Emma’s neck makes her shiver. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Emma’s eyes narrow as she spins around and comes face to face with none other than Killian Jones. “Ugh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound too excited, Swan. I know you’ve missed me.”

Emma ignores Killian as she continues to push her way through the crowd and into the women’s restroom. Killian is waiting for her, casually leaning against a wall, when she reemerges.

Reason #2 why Emma Swan doesn’t drink tequila: it makes her braver. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I enjoy a local drinking establishment? Or is there a law that says I must notify you of my every move?”

Emma’s head tilts to the side as her eyes trail over Killian’s tanned arms. “There should be.”

Killian steps closer to Emma, pressing her into a quiet alcove near the bathrooms. “So if I wanted to brush that piece of hair out of your face, I’d have to tell you first?”

Emma nods as Killian sweeps a piece of her hair behind her ear.“

And if I wanted to brush my thumb across your lips?”

She closes her eyes and nods once more. Killian’s thumb strokes across her bottom lip slowly as he speaks again, no longer questioning. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Killian’s mouth descends on Emma’s as he presses her against the wall, catching her off guard and leaving her short of breath. Killian’s tongue slowly slides against Emma’s bottom lip before he pulls away with a satisfied grin on his face. “Now this is me leaving. Have a good night, Swan.”

Emma watches Killian disappear into the crowd, as she tries to calm her labored breathing. The heat that’s settled low in her belly is most certainly not from an alcohol rush.

Reason #1 why Emma Swan doesn’t drink tequila: it makes her want Killian Jones.

* * *

Emma arrives at brunch the next day nursing a hangover the size of Texas. She gratefully accepts the mug of coffee pressed into her hands by Ruby. 

Still clad in the clothes from the night before and sporting a pair of sunglasses, Mary Margaret groans pathetically from the head of the table. “I am never drinking with you people ever again.”

Ruby stirs her Bloody Mary as she replies, “You might feel like hell now, but admit it – you had a really fucking good time last night.”

Mary Margaret looks around the table, a smile growing on her face. “Maybe it was a little fun.”

Ruby parts herself on the back, earning a laugh from everyone at the table. “See? I told you. And you know what’s going to be even more fun?”

Mary Margaret leans back in her chair. “What?”

It’s Emma that beats Ruby to the punch. “Walking down the aisle next Saturday, of course.”

Ruby raises her glass into the air, leading the table in a toast. “To the future, Mrs. Nolan!”

* * *

It doesn’t take her long to come up with a draft of the so-called law. She prints off a copy and puts it in a folder to make it look more official. When he opens his door, his lazy grin tells her she already knows what his answer will be.“

Good afternoon, Mr. Jones. I have a draft of that legislation we initially discussed last night.”

Killian’s eyes roam from Emma’s hair all the way down to her toes, warming her body from the inside out. “I assume you’ve retained the same terms?”

Emma’s eyes linger on Killian’s bottom lip before sliding up to meet his gaze. “Actually, I’ve made some changes.

“Killian accepts the folder and opens it to find the following: 

_Don’t give me the (wrong) shaft, Killian. Be my wedding date?_

* * *

He kisses her senseless in the hallway. She takes it as a “yes.” 


End file.
